


you may just take my breath away

by lapetitemerde



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, and clarke's eventually kinda glad today's the day her air conditioner decided to break, and octavia feels at home wherever she goes, mentioned octaven, raven's a sassy lil shit, sassmasters clarke and raven, the one where clarke's a tattoo artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5797594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapetitemerde/pseuds/lapetitemerde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this girl, apparently named octavia, waltzes into clarke's shop like she owns the place, even though clarke's sure she's never been here before. interesting enough, but what really catches her eye is the girl behind octavia with the wildly braided brown hair. she looks quiet and powerful and like there should be some kind of cape behind her for how regal she appears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you may just take my breath away

It’d been a pretty regular day, as far as tattoo shops go. Ordinary, almost cliche, Clarke could say. 

One college looking guy with board shorts, a buzzcut, and a hangover to match came in with a friend (who didn’t seem to be faring any better) and requested an American flag on his bicep to look like it was rippling when he flexed. At least, he called it a bicep. Raven called it an untreated zit (after he’d paid and left, of course). Clarke was inclined to agree. 

One fifty something year old woman came in with a small smile, and asked for the name of her son put onto her upper arm, under two others. Her third and final child to “leave the nest”, she’d explained. It was cute, Clarke admitted, but nothing extraordinary. 

Add to that the sweltering heat outside, which was slowly seeping its way in, and Clarke could say this day was doing nothing for her. 

At least, not until now. 

The bell at the top of the door signaled a new customer’s entrance, and Clarke looked up from her desk to see two girls stepping in. 

The first had straight black hair falling over her face, a dark shirt and jeans to match, and black high tops she could see were worn almost to dust. She walked with swagger and confidence, a sort of carefree joy, and laughed at something Clarke hadn’t heard.

The girl was cute, Clarke couldn’t deny (she had eyes of course), but what caught her eye was the girl’s friend stepping in behind her.

Long brown hair, partially braided, curled halfway down her back. A white shirt (tank top?) rippled with movement under a black leather jacket, and black jeans folded into boots that stopped mid-calf. And this girl’s eyeliner. Damn. Clarke had thought Raven’s was good. This girl portrayed an air of confidence as well, not unlike her friend’s, but quieter, more controlled. Like she knew something others didn’t, and enjoyed it. She grinned at something her friend said, and Clarke found herself really wanting to know what caused that alluring smile. 

She set down the phone she’d been spinning idly in her hands and rounded the desk, approaching her new hopeful customers. 

“Hi, welcome to Sky Tattoos, can I help you out?” Clarke smiled warmly at the girls, sizing them up now she was closer to them. Bikers, maybe? Part of a rock band? Maybe they just like the aesthetic? Either way, she wasn’t complaining. 

“Yeah, hi,” the girl with the straight hair jumped in, smile still on her face. “I’m Octavia, this is Lexa. She’s here to get some art done.”

Clarke turned her attention to the girl named Lexa, and damn if she wasn’t even more striking up close. She looked Clarke over and settled on her eyes, offering a small glint in her own eye in lieu of a smile before she began. 

“It is a pattern that was started some weeks ago and couldn’t be finished where we began. We heard this was the place to come.”

Oh, god, her voice. Clarke definitely needed to get this girl to talk more. Or less. She supposed it depended on how accurate she wanted her art to be. 

“Great, well step into my office.” Clarke led the women to a set of chairs near the shop’s wall and motioned for them to sit down. “I’m Clarke, by the way.”

“Pleased to meet you, Clarke.” The way Lexa said her name was almost intoxicating. Lexa shook her hand across the table between them and sat straight in her chair. Clarke thought the only person she’d ever seen with posture half as good as this girl’s was Wells. 

“Why don’t you show me what we’re working with here?”

And holy hell, was that the worst question to ask ever. Lexa stood and slipped off her jacket, and Clarke had to swallow a little bit at the sight of her well toned arms. Now those were definitely fucking biceps. Lexa turned slightly towards her and showed what looked to be one half of an ornate tribal pattern across her right tricep. Finishing the art wasn’t going to be easy, but Clarke liked challenges. Especially the artistic kind. 

She ran her eyes over every inch of the solid black tattoo, observing every swirl and curve in the design, absorbing every detail. It was honestly fascinating, and she really wished this girl wasn’t so attractive because this tattoo only made her more alluring. 

Clarke forced herself to tear her eyes away from Lexa’s arm when she noticed Lexa moving to sit back down, and she caught Octavia smirking to herself from the corner of her eye. She cleared her throat, and caught Lexa’s eyes, smiling at her. 

“It’s really beautiful. I’d love to work on it.”

Lexa returned her small smile, her eyes twinkling ever so slightly, and folded her jacket in her lap. “I’m pleased to hear that, Clarke. Can we do this now or should we return at a more convenient time?” The formal air Lexa spoke with caught Clarke slightly off guard; Lexa didn’t look more than a year or two older than her, if at all, yet she came across as having leagues more experience, and the authority to match. It only served to make Clarke want to know why. 

“Yes, sure. Please, let’s do it now.” 

At Lexa’s bemused look, Clarke blushed a little and backtracked. “It’s been a pretty boring day, you two are certainly the most interesting looking people I’ve had here in at least a week, and working on you would keep my mind off the fact that the air conditioning has been broken for the last hour and until my friend comes to fix it I’ll be melting.”

Seemingly satisfied, and humored, Lexa smiled and stood. “Lead the way, Clarke.”

God, the way Lexa said her name was intoxicating. It was like she wanted each letter to have its own pronunciation, sounding out each part in her mouth before letting it out between her lips. Clarke wouldn't mind getting used to that. 

Clarke motioned for Lexa and Octavia to follow her, and the three of them settled in a back room with a large reclining chair, a few stools, and Clarke’s equipment. Lexa situated herself in the recliner, Octavia in the stool nearby to Lexa’s left, and Clarke on Lexa’s other side as she readied her tools. 

“Oh,” Octavia stood from her stool and reached into her back pocket. “I have the design on paper if you don’t want to recreate straight on.” She handed the folded sheet to Clarke, and then tipped her head to Lexa. “I’m gonna go outside to call Indra and let her know we’ll be here a while. You’ll be okay for a couple?”

“Of course,” Lexa nodded. Octavia stepped out and Lexa turned her attention to Clarke, who was flitting her eyes between the whole tattoo on the sheet in her hand and the half on Lexa’s arm. Lexa saw an intensity and focus in her eyes she couldn’t place, had never come across in this way before. “Is there a problem, Clarke?”

Clarke raised her eyes to Lexa’s and grinned, ready for the challenge. She didn’t think herself one of the best artists at her university for nothing. “No, not at all. I get excited when I’m about to work on something I know I’m gonna really enjoy.”

Clarke’s eyes glinted with excitement and Lexa’s lips turned up in a quiet smile in response. Clarke couldn’t figure out what about this girl made her so mysterious, and what pulled Clarke towards her so much. Nonetheless, she leaned forward and, with a glance up at Lexa and a nod in affirmation, began tracing in pen the outline of the second half of the tattoo onto Lexa’s shoulder. It felt even more toned than it looked, and Clarke had to tell herself that it was the heat that was getting to her and she should really calm down and when the hell was Raven getting back anyway. 

Clarke focused on outlining the tattoo, careful methodical hands moving surely across the back of Lexa’s arm to her bicep. (Her mom always did say she had the right hands for medicine.) 

“So, wanna give me some background on this? It’s a really cool piece.” Clarke kept working as she spoke, her breath flowing over Lexa’s arm coolly.

“It’s a family thing. Not much background.”

Clarke hummed. “Well, it’s really gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Thank you, again.” Lexa nodded, and Clarke returned to her work. The two were content to sit in silence for long minutes, the only exchanges those where Clarke told Lexa to turn, put her arm up, twist her body, move it back. Clarke wanted to keep conversation with Lexa, wanted to keep hearing her voice, but she got the sense that Lexa didn’t tend to make small talk when it wasn’t necessary, and she wanted to keep the girl comfortable. 

Time passed in comfortable quiet before the door’s bell rang and two pairs of footsteps and accompanying voices sounded their way through the shop and to the back room. 

Clarke and Lexa turned their heads to the open door as Octavia stepped into the room. She sat back onto her stool, almost like she owned it now, having used it once. A girl with straight brown hair, olive skin, and strong forearms followed Octavia in, grinning and making her way towards Clarke. 

“So I met your friend outside, Clarke. She’s a mechanic, that’s fun.” Octavia winked in the general direction of her audience, and Clarke threw a glare at the girl who’d joined them as she continued her work. "We didn't hear any screams of pain coming from inside so we figured it was okay to hang outside for an hour or so."

“Oh, Raven’s plenty fun. When she’s not taking a fucking year and a half to get tools from her shop that’s five fucking minutes away.”

“Relax, babe,” Raven smiled easily. “I totally got this covered, your a/c will work even better when I’m finished with it. Really, you should be glad it broke. It’s about damn time for an upgrade. Also, I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did.”

“Just go fix it, Raven.” Clarke squinted slightly as she finished tracing and capped her pen. “I’m gonna start with the needles and you don’t want me to be around you when I do.”

“Yikes, feisty. I’m out. Octavia, you wanna join?” Raven looked towards Octavia sitting on the stool by Lexa, hanging on to her every word. 

“Yes, yes definitely.” Octavia stood and made to move towards the doorway, before looking back to check on her friend. “Lex, I’ll be outside. Call me if you need moral support. Or to break a hand.”

“I can handle myself,” Lexa waved her off, adding a barely whispered “safe sex is the best sex” and chuckling at Octavia’s middle finger reappearing through the entry. 

Clarke waited patiently a moment for Lexa to refocus her attention, and then told her she’d be beginning with the needle. 

Lexa nodded in permission, and Clarke turned on the needle, dipped it in the ink beside her, and pressed the tip to Lexa’s skin. She heard Lexa breathe in deeply, presumably steeling herself against the initial discomfort, and then resume her former position. The droning of the tattoo needle mostly drowned out the voices of Raven and Octavia in the main room, and Clarke and Lexa were left to their silence again. Clarke was used to keeping casual conversation with clients while she was working on them, but she knew there were also people who preferred the quiet. She guessed Lexa was one of those people. 

Clarke engrossed herself in the intricacies of Lexa’s tattoo, the tribal details demanding her attention. She spared a glance up at Lexa after she couldn't keep her head down any longer, and caught her stuttering an inhale. 

“You can talk to me, or at me,” Clarke offered. “It’ll help keep your mind off the pain.”

“I have a very high tolerance for pain, Clarke.” Lexa replied, matter-of-factly, her voice steady and almost offhand. 

Clarke was impressed, but she pressed anyway, trying to see if she could get anything out of this mysterious girl, seeing as they’d be together for the next couple hours. “Alright,” she chuckled, ever more charmed by Lexa’s cold and perhaps royal demeanor. “I’m just throwing it out there.”

“I appreciate the offer, Clarke.”

She decided to let it rest for now. They lapsed into silence once more and the hum of the needle filled the room, occasionally disturbed by the clanking and screwing and whatever the fuck Raven was doing to her air conditioner. It’d better turn the shop into fucking Antarctica when she’s done. 

As if on queue triggered by Clarke’s thoughts, there came a squeak of surprise from the main room, quickly followed by the unceremonious clatter Clarke had come to recognize, over years of friendship with Raven, as her toolbox being knocked over. She stopped the needle for a moment, perked her ears up for any further sounds of distress, and relaxed again when a “We’re fine!” from Octavia and several giggles made their way through the open door. 

Clarke sighed good-naturedly and Lexa matched it, apparently similarly familiar with her own friend’s antics. Clarke put pressure on the bottom of Lexa’s arm to raise it, and when she began inking the new part of her arm, Lexa spoke up. 

“I’ve known Octavia almost my entire life. Our families are very close. Ours, and a few others. That’s where the design for this tattoo originated.” Lexa spoke with her face turned away from Clarke, and couldn’t see the small smile directed at no one, satisfied with her triumph in getting the mysterious girl with the enchanting tattoo to open up. 

“Mhmm,” Clarke encouraged. “And you said the tattoo couldn’t be finished at the place you started it.” Lexa nodded slowly, as if reluctant to share the information that the rest of the inquiry would entail. Clarke didn’t want to press her luck, so she decided to take a different route. 

She kept her eyes on her work, occasionally dipping down to check her ink, and redirected. “Who referred you to me, then?”

“A friend of Octavia’s brother. John Murphy, do you remember?” 

“No, sorry, can’t say that I d- oh, wait. Dragon up the leg? Total asshole?”

“Yes.”

“Well, at least he tipped well. And I gotta say I did some good work.” Clarke smiled at herself, remembering the piece and praising herself not only for the tattoo, but suffering through his presence as long as she had.

“Yes, I have seen it. It is very impressive, Clarke.” Lexa turned her head as much as she could to look at Clarke, who was standing and had the higher vantage point. 

Clarke caught Lexa’s eye and blushed slightly at the sincerity of Lexa’s words. She then noticed, with Lexa’s shift in position and her higher viewpoint of Lexa, that there was another tattoo hidden under the hem of her top, just above the curve of her breast. All she could make of it was a dark scaly arch before she had to shift her glance away. She tried to nonchalantly resume her work on Lexa’s arm and pretend she hadn’t noticed, but Lexa caught her gaze and Clarke could tell she’d been caught. 

A sloppy grin formed at the edge of her lips in an attempt to ward off the embarrassment. “Look, as an artistic professional it’s my duty to know about any and all other tattoos.”

Lexa surveyed her for a moment, as if calculating whether or not she was serious, and decided to humor her. 

“It’s an ouroboros, a sna-”

“A snake eating its own tail. Symbolizing reincarnation or that life can come from death. I know it.” Clarke smiled in recognition and spouted the information as though from a textbook, all the while continuing her inking.

Lexa looked up at Clarke, taken aback, although trying not to move her arm too much. “I am impressed, Clarke. Not many people know that.”

“Yeah, well.” Clarke paused for second and looked down at Lexa. “I took a couple courses in art history and art in mythology, and it’s always been one that stuck with me.” Clarke’s tone implied there was something running deeper there than purely intellectual interest, but she let the topic lay for now. 

The silence hung for long, not uncomfortable, as Clarke maneuvered Lexa’s arm to continue her work on the tattoo and Lexa allowed her body to bend to Clarke’s motions. Clarke sunk into her work, trying to think as little as possible about the intriguing person her ink belonged to. Lexa seemed not to move at all for the hours spent marking her arm, save the way Clarke moved her. When Clarke was done she glanced at her watch, noted she'd worked more quickly on this than usual. It seemed that the hours had passed quickly not only in her head. She placed gauze on Lexa’s arm and taped it down, fishing some cream from a cabinet in the wall to give to her. 

Clarke finally broke the silence. “I’m sure you know the drill with this?”

“I do.” Lexa accepted the cream and stood from the recliner. She stretched her body, working out the kinks from having been in the chair so long. As Clarke could have predicted (of fucking course), the bottom of Lexa’s tank top rode up with her motions, revealing the continuation of a snake pattern on the front of Lexa’s hip. 

“Jesus, Lexa, your tattoo goes all the way down there?”

Lexa looked down at her body before righting herself, letting the shirt fall back into place. “Yes. While I do recognize the importance of new life coming from death, I do not see why the original life should not be long as well.”

Clarke mulled over that for a moment while cleaning her supplies. “Yeah, I can understand that.” She stood and considered Lexa again, looking her up and down. This girl seemed to have centuries of life experience, and Clarke couldn’t say she had any idea where any of it would have come from, and what contributed to her regal air. Still, she longed to study Lexa, learn her like a work of art. 

“I’m gonna finish things up in here for a minute. Can you wait for me with Octavia in the main room?”

“Of course, Clarke.” Lexa regarded her with a once-over before turning and entering the larger room. 

Lexa hadn’t even been gone a full minute when Raven burst into the room, almost knocking over the chair that had been Octavia’s. “Clarke! Ask her out.”

Clarke ignored her friend’s energized state and continued organizing her things. “Did you fix my a/c, Raven?”

“Babe, your main room is gonna be chiller than a white boy with marijuana at a frat party. In Siberia.”

“This is why I love you,” Clarke grinned. She closed a final cabinet and took a look at her friend. She cataloged the one hickey on Raven’s neck, and another half hidden under the top of her shirt. “No,” she shook her head. She really should have known. “Nevermind. I take that back. I hate you.”

“Clarke,” the pout was full on. “You wound me.”

“You had sex in my bathroom, Raven!”

“No! I would never do that to you!” Raven defended. “Again,” she smirked. “We just made out. Heavily. For a couple hours. Octavia’s a good kisser.”

“Of fucking course she is.” Clarke moved to shoo Raven out. “You’re leaving now. I have customers that need to pay me.”

Raven didn’t look like she was going to be shooed out anywhere, so Clarke stood in front of her and handled what she could of her best friend before the urge to punch became too great. 

“Speaking of which,” the grin came back full force, “ask Lexa out! She’s hot, you’re hot, get together.”

“How would you know she’s hot?” Clarke challenged.

“Uh, I have eyes?”

“You were looking at Octavia the whole time you were in here.”

“Whatever that’s not the point. You need to get her out of the recliner so she can sit on your face instead.”

“Raven!” Clarke was seriously this close to finding one of her needles and testing it on Raven. “You’re leaving this room now.”

“Fine, fine.”

“Thank yo-”

“You’re coming with me.”

“No.”

“You want your money, don’t you?”

The two of them exchanged looks, each daring the other to say something more, and after a moment Clarke relented. “Yes, I want money.”

With a triumphant grin, Raven stepped aside and motioned for Clarke to advance. “Lead the way, Princess.” Clarke flipping her the bird over her shoulder only made her laugh harder.

As Raven made her way to talk to Octavia near the door, Clarke came to the desk to find Lexa waiting patiently with a check already made out, with only the price left to be filled it. Clarke found her preparedness charming and smiled lazily when she addressed Lexa. 

“Two hundred bucks, please.”

If Lexa found anything about the price odd she didn’t show it, and only wrote down the number on the check and slid it across the desk. That was all well and good, Clarke decided, but she didn’t expect Lexa to slip a hand into her jeans and pull out another fifty dollar bill to hand to her. 

A fifty with her a phone number written on it. 

Clarke’s eyes widened, and she looked up at Lexa across from her. “Is this-?”

“My number. I’m not so sure about the face sitting just yet,” - a chuckle from Raven’s general direction, fuck her - “but I’d like it if you joined me for coffee sometime.” Lexa turned away from the desk and began to leave, before turning her head over her shoulder one more time. “And thank you again, Clarke, for the tattoo.”

She opened the door and exited the shop with Octavia behind her, Octavia’s laughing out loud audible even after the door closed. 

Raven rounded to Clarke’s side of the desk just as Clarke plopped down into her spinny chair, all laughter herself. 

“Soooo, does the Princess have a date?” Raven might as well have had an actual halo floating on top of her head for the miracle she thought she’d just worked.

“Raven, I’m beginning to think you actually do want me to plunge a needle into your neck.”

“Hey,” Raven put her hands up in mock defense. “I’m only looking out for my best friend.”

“Some lookout. I take it you and Octavia are going out sometime?”

“Ark Cafe, Thursday morning.”

“In two days? You know, for a bisexual, you’re pretty familiar with U-Haul.”

“Fuck off.”

“Maybe I will. With Lexa.”

“And when might that be, so you can stop riding my dick and get onto hers?”

“Friday morning, maybe Saturday. Whenever it is, I’ll bring needles with me, so make yourself scarce, Reyes.”

“I’m gone.”

“Don’t let the door hit your ego on the way out.”

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if any tattoo artist read this and i completely butchered your profession  
> comments/kudos would be greatly appreciated, and i'm lapetitemerde on tumblr as well if you wanna come say hi


End file.
